The next morning, I wake up and do it all over again.
I am lucky. On a lark, I entered a World Series of Poker event a few years ago and won over $100,000. So, thanks to poker, we have money to spend on trying to make a baby. I have time to go to the doctor every day, and we are blessed to have people in our lives that care about us and listen when we need them. I am deeply appreciative of those advantages and regularly think of the women who dont have those things and want a baby as bad as I do.
But still, I am so fucking tired of needles. My arms look like they belong to a heroin addict. And the more bruised they get, the harder it is for the nurse to hit her target. Today, she missed five times, switched arms, and missed a few more times before finally asking another nurse to try. I started weeping. Not because it hurt, but because I am exhausted. I am fed up with being a pincushion.